The two men stood motionless, intent, staring at the window.
The flashes ceased.
The Frenchman reached out and laid his hand on Runnells' arm.
"No need for a repeat," he said quickly. "You got it, didn't you?"
"My word!" exclaimed Runnells. "Two guards—butler's pantry—all clear! Strike me pink!"
The Frenchman laughed purringly under his breath.
"Did I not say he was incomparable? Come on, then, Runnells—quickly now!"
And now it was as though two shadows moved, flitting swiftly across the lawn, and along the edge of the building and around to the rear. And here they crouched before a doorway, and the Frenchman whispered:
"Don't be delicate about it, Runnells. This isn't any inside job! Nick it up badly enough so's a blind man could see where we got in."
"That's what I'm doing," said Runnells mechanically. His mind seemed obsessed with other things. "Two guards!" he muttered. And again: "Strike me pink!"